


Weeping Fae

by bluegraywilde



Series: Adventures of Cat and the Doctor [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-11-26 16:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18182765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluegraywilde/pseuds/bluegraywilde
Summary: A trip to Ireland takes a turn when Cat travels further than she ever expected. Her fate is left in the hands of the Doctor, now a stranger all over again.





	Weeping Fae

**Author's Note:**

> yeah it's a sequel, but all necessary context is provided

        Cat stared out of the bus window at the rolling countryside. _I’ve missed seeing this much green, even in winter._ She hadn’t been to Ireland since her study abroad junior year. And a day didn’t go by without her wishing to go back. _And now I’ve managed._

        She wished it was purely her vacation to do with as she pleased. _Or better yet, the start of a very long stay._ But first there were some family obligations to be checked off. _A great aunt that I’m meeting for the first time._

She shouldn’t complain, there was free room and board in it for her, right outside where she had studied in Galway funnily enough. _To think all those years ago we were a few miles apart and none the wiser to it._  

Bit of shock when her mom got contacted out of the blue by some long-lost relatives. _Well not completely, she is adopted after all._ And well if Mom wasn’t ready to take advantage of the open invitation to visit, Cat certainly wouldn’t be stopped from plowing through all her vacation days for the trip.

        They arrived at the bus terminal. As she descended the steps, thinking what she’d do first. _Have to hit up the bay. Maybe even the cathedral. Despite its many, many problems, Catholicism did go off with all that stained glass._

         But first she decided to head to the King’s Head bar for a pint for old times sake. _My aunt would understand. She is Irish after all. And there’s nothing like proper Irish beer in actual Ireland._

         Once she ordered it, Cat nursed it for a good while, just people watching. She then downed a cider because she could. _And it was about time I get going._ She gathered her things, leaving a generous tip on the bar.

         She called an Uber, and soon enough she arrived at her destination.

         The house stood among the fields. Not an unusual sight in the Irish countryside, but there was still something disconcerting about its complete and utter isolation. There weren’t even any barnyard critters, lending it a lonely creepy air, enhanced by visible lack of upkeep. _Cobwebs, vines, and moss. Oh my!_

 _I get an old lady living alone wouldn’t necessarily keep up with the yard work but couldn’t she at least hire someone._ She made her way down a cobbled path that led away from the roadway. A few stones were tumbled out of place, but she couldn’t tell if they were originally from the path or the low rock wall that surrounded the property. _Seems dangerous to live alone at here without help, one bad fall could be it._

        At the end of the path, guarding the entryway was one of those stone angels that looked like it belonged in a cemetery. _Makes the whole thing feel like a rotting mausoleum._ Its eyes hidden beneath their hands in a weeping position. _It’s sad about the Catholicism of it all._

        No doorbell to ring. She knocked. Once, twice, thrice. Four times in all. No response beyond the echo. _Would forgive an older woman for taking a nap, it is the middle of the afternoon, but she can’t be that heavy a sleeper._

        She tried the handle and with a heaving push, the door gave way with a long shuddering creak. _I have the right address, right? Let’s not get arrested for trespassing in a foreign country,_

        Cat called for her great aunt with only a resounding silence answering her. A thick layer of dust coated every single surface. She glanced down to see that her bootsteps were leaving marks as if she was on the moon. _No one has lived here in years._          

        As loathe as she was to use data, she opened her phone to check the address in the email on the off chance she remembered it wrong. And send a follow up email because she’d be homeless for the next week if she couldn’t find her great aunt, and staying at a hotel would break the bank. _I guess worst case scenario I could squat here for a bit._

        No such luck. It was the right house. She started a drafted a strongly worded but polite response to her great aunt, already planning a rant for the next time she chatted with the bestie.

        She saw some movement, just out of the corner of her eye, and stopped what she was doing to look up, expecting to see a cat or some other critter. Instead her heart skipped a beat at seeing another of those stone angels, nestled in the corner, arms outstretched, a thin-lipped smile upon its face. _Creepy. Who the hell would want that thing in their house? Isn’t the usual Irish Catholic house shrine a bit more like crosses and pictures of the Virgin Mary and sexy Jesus with the abs._

        Cat ventured deeper into the bowels of the house, out of a mixture of curiosity and boredom. _I paid good money to get out here in the middle of nowhere, might as well have some fun first._

More movement, and she turned about face on her heel to see yet another stone angel, face contorted in a monstrous kind of pleasure, fangs filling out its maw, clawed hands reaching out. There was no way that was there a second ago. _What in the living fuck is going on?_

        Startled, she blinked in confusion and in that split second, she felt the stone angel reach out and touch her. The whole world went spinning. No that wasn’t quite right. It was like blinking, one moment the world was there and secure, then it blacked out, only to reappear changed, marked by the passage of time.

        When she regained her bearings, Cat realized she had her butt planted to the ground. _Fall from the shock of whatever the hell that was?_

        The angel was gone. It had definitely moved- _trick of the light?_ But that was impossible, rock didn’t move of its own volition. She’d blame gravity, but the actual position of the statue had shifted with every glance, face uncovering, something like malice lighting up those blank stone discs. _Some punk playing a prank to garner some touristy interest in the haunted Irish countryside?_

        She didn’t really believe that. Her adventures with the Doctor had taught her that the world was wilder and more fantastic than she had ever known. Still the wackiness tended to stalk the Doctor, only intersecting with her life when it touched his. Now she was on her own.

 _Time to take stock._ Whatever was hunting her could return at any moment and presumably finish what it started. _They always want to kill you, the creatures in the movies. Why is that? Where are the nice aliens?_

        Beyond a splitting headache- _typical_ \- and some light nausea, she felt physically fine. She stood up, slow and deliberate as if she was nursing a hangover or a fever. _I need some fresh air._

        The furnishing of the cottage had changed. _I didn’t blackout, right?_ Well they weren’t completely different, most of the same pieces, just arranged in such a way that they looked wrong- _like seeing a reflection in a mirror._ And the thick layer of dust that coated everything had seemingly evaporated into thin air, and with it the trail her boot-marks had left.

        The road was gone, well not completely gone, the asphalt had been replaced with dirt, deep grooves from thousands of wagon wheels and horses’ hooves pockmarking it. In fact, one such wagon was traveling now- in the direction of town. _Is this some kind of reverse Rip Van Winkle_ _situation? Benjamin Button-style time travel. Did I fall asleep and wake up like a hundred years ago?_

 _Or more likely the old fashionedness of the Irish countryside strikes again._ Still roads were not exactly in the habit of unpacking themselves. _I think._

        “Hey!” The hunched greybeard driving it looked around wildly for the source of her call. _Well he’s not completely deaf though it could be a near thing._ Once he spotted her, he pointed to himself with a quizzical expression wrinkling a plenty wrinkled face.

        “Yes you, what year is it?” _2019\. Equivalent answers according to the Jewish or Islamic calendars acceptable if unexpected._

        “You fluthered lass?” _If only. Maybe someone sneaked some absinthe or something else foul into my drink._

        “Sober as my first birthday sir.” _Take’s more than a pint to get me tipsy._

        “The year of our lord 1922, miss” _Well shit. Could he be some fanatical historical reenactor not willing to break character?_

        “You headed to Galway? If you don’t mind me hitchhiking a ride into town.” She almost didn’t want to ask, but with no cell service, it would be a long walk.

        “Sure thing lass. Hop aboard.” _Really hoping he’s not the lecherous old man type. He doesn’t look it, and I usually have a sixth sense, but it’s good to be on guard._

        They rode on in silence, Cat more focused on comparing the rolling landscape to the one she remembered on the way out than making polite conversation. Everything seemed less crowded, as if the business of modern life had been erased. She didn’t spot much in the way of cars, which wasn’t reassuring.

        “What’s that accent? If you don’t mind me asking. I’ve heard all sorts over the years but none like yours.”

        “American.”

        “Don’t get too many of your kind round these parts.” _That’ll change soon enough old timer. Soon the whole wide world would wish it could get rid of the American tourist._

        “It’s a bit of a trip by... er, ship.” She had almost said by plane before remembering that wasn’t really a thing yet. _If it really is 1922, and he’s not some escaped dementia patient._

        All signs were pointing to something weird going on and shockingly the sci-fi movie rip-off time jump into the past was her best theory.

        There was no denying it once they were back in town. _Obviously it’s got to be some elaborate prank show._ She felt like she’d stepped on to the set of a classic Hollywood movie, except everything was in righteous color. _Wait it’s almost like everything wasn’t in black and white back then._

The women were all in dresses, some old fashioned big-skirted looks, a few nascent flat-chested flappers in the bunch. Many of the men strode about in three-piece suits- _yeah when did the fashion standards for men get so low._ Cat definitely appreciated the tailoring, showing off all the right areas and proportions.

         She thanked the old timer and stepped down from the wagon, in downtown Galway. Reassuringly, the King’s Head still stood there, but otherwise all the familiar chains and hangouts were gone. On closer inspection, the street lamps didn’t just ape the style of classic gas lights, they were the genuine article, flames sputtering to life as the sun set.

         She snatched a fallen newspaper by the drains. It was mostly a mess, but the date was still clearly visible. _13 January 1922. Well shit._

         She nearly collapsed on the ground from the shock. Her mind raced around with the possibilities. If she really was back in time and stuck here, she had no papers, no documents, no job, no money… _I’m at the not so tender mercies of the world with the added bonus of the background level misogyny turned up to an eleven._ Like women just got the write to vote, second wave feminism was decades out. _I’ll probably kill a man before I can make it._

        And then she’d have to live through the Great Depression and World War II and the Cold War. _Although knowing what’s coming, I could certainly make a tidy profit on the stock market._ She shook her head. _No bad Cat, do not profit on the misery of others. But also…_

        As she pondered the gravity of her situation, she noticed something, just in the corner of her eye.

_A big blue box._

        It was tucked away in an alleyway, just at the mouth, a child’s idea of inconspicuous. Even so, everyone on the street just passed it by, seemingly not taking notice of it or seeing nothing of interest.    

 _A lifeline_. Of course, she’d manage to run into the Doctor again, half a world away from home- _and quite a bit farther given the date on that newspaper._ _I should pop in and say hello. That’s what friends do… if we can consider each other friends._

_I mean is there even a word for someone you have two wild adrenaline junkie adventures with, weeks apart, each time ending with the expectation that you’d never meet again? The Germans would probably have one…_

        She was about to knock on the door, but hesitated, remembering his disproportionate response the last time. Which seemed odd in retrospect, he seemed exactly like the kind of person who would welcome unexpected visitors. _Time Lords seem like the weird type._

        But there was no alternative, no other potential ride home. However, before she could knock, the door flung inward opening to reveal the wrong skinny white guy. _Who the fuck are you?_

“Oh, I know you. Have we met before?” _We most certainly have not._ The accent was British, which irritated her just because half the point of this trip was to immerse herself in lilting lyrical Irish tones.

        The first thing she noticed was the chin, strong and square, the most classically handsome feature in a face that otherwise screamed quirky-British-guy-the-internet-would-fall-in-love-with. Then the ears, which were a bit like rocket fins.   

        The clothing was a bit odd too, suspenders with a tweed jacket and matching bow-tie. _Trying to win a school science fair, are we? All he needs is a pair of round glasses taped together in the middle and he’d be peak!geek._

        He stepped outside into full view, shutting the TARDIS door behind him. The interior looked a bit different from the little glimpse she had gotten, more machine, less organic. _Maybe the Doctor redecorated._

        “Ginger. Ginger. Ginger.” It was as if she wasn’t really there at least as a person. Just the latest interesting specimen to inspect from head to toe, and then discard when he got bored. _Love that objectification._

        “Jealous of that by the way. I’ve been desperate to try it out for centuries.” _Hyperbole or is he another one of those Time Lords? And didn’t the Doctor complain about that before._

        “You’re not Donna, are you?” He whipped out a vibrator of a different kind to the Doctor’s, pulsating green. Quite a bit larger too. _Somebody’s compensating._ “No, no, of course not. Her brain would turn into pudding just seeing the old girl again.”

He wasn’t talking any sense, and she felt distinctly threatened with a complete stranger bobbing and weaving about her, waving around his sonic- _at least I hope it’s a sonic, that thing could be giving me cancer for all I know_. She usually had a knife on her person for this very reason. But obviously airport security on a transatlantic flight meant that she was unarmed at the moment.

        She backed up, slowly, ready to bolt or make a cry for help. “I’m sorry, but do you know the Doctor? Like are you his friend or something? I kind of need a lift.”

        “Doctor who?” _Isn’t that always the question._ “I’m just joking,” he straightened his bow tie, sly grin lighting up his face. “I’m the Doctor.”

         Cat frowned. “No, you’re not. He’s all skinny nothing and spikey hair and that awful pinstripe suit.”

         “Well I got a new suit and haircut and everything else.” He did a little twirl. “Regeneration never looked so good.” _Oh yeah, he mentioned something like that the last time._

         She couldn’t quite wrap her head around the concept though, especially as it was right in front of her. _Is identity really just a collection of memories? Is there some essential you-ness that survives the process?_

_Seems like it happened a while ago if he’s able to joke about his own death._

         “So you knew the last man? Hmm that was a couple centuries ago now. Can’t say I remember who you are.” _Ouch._

         “Cat Donoghue.” The name clearly just glossed over him without a hint of an impression. _Water off a duck’s back._

         “You saved me from those robot thingamabobs.” Still nothing. _He must deal with sci-fi robots every other day. Need to get more specific._

         “Then we accidentally crash landed in the Land of Fiction and ended up trapped on Neverland.” _Good times._

         She added, for effect, “You almost died.” _Surely, he’d remember mortal peril, but also that seems very much part of the lifestyle._

         “Oh yeah, you had that big crush on Captain Hook.” Her cheeks flashed crimson at the memories. _Huh, so this is my legacy._ “He’s quite the looker if memory serves, so congrats on the good taste.”

 _Not sure whether I should be offended that Hook’s looks are more memorable than me or impressed that Colin O’Donoghue’s version is attractive enough to leave an impression on a near-immortal time traveler._ She thought it over for a moment before settling on both. _Colin can get it._

        “What was that you said about needing a life?” _You’re not wrong, but also fuck off._

        “Excuse me, you’re the weirdo with no friends.” _And I have at least two so ha!_

         “Friends, I have friends! There’s Rose, well she was a bit more than that. Mickey or was it Rickey? I always called him the wrong name to piss him off but I can’t seem to remember which was which anymore. And then Martha, Donna, the Ponds, and River, although yeah again bit more than that. Wives still count as friends, right?” _Somebody’s been busy. But all in all, me thinks he doth protest too much._

         “All I’m just saying that every time we’ve met, you’ve been traveling solo.”         

         “Traveling solo is cool.” All she had to do was raise an eyebrow and he backed down, “Okay not cool. Very not cool.” _Eh, I’ve done my fair share, so minimal judgment._

          “And oi, I know you said lift, my mind’s moving a million, billion, trillion miles a minute, sometimes the tongue…” He pulled out his own for emphasis, swallowing the rest of his point. Cat wiped away some stray spittle that was flicked her way. _Nasty._

          He put his tongue away and the shrugged his shoulders, “Yeah it all gets a bit away from me sometimes.”

          “You think?” _He’s ridiculous, absolutely, astoundedly absurd._

          “But I can’t help you.”

          “Please, I’ve seen what that machine can do. It’s just a quick hop, one hundred years in the future. It won’t take you more than a second and then you can be on your merry way doing whatever you do with all that alone time.” _How does the Time Lord not understand time travel?_

          “The Weeping Angels were involved, I can sense it.” _Oh, so he’s magic now._ “Makes this a fixed point. You’re stuck here.” _Fuck that._

          “I’m sorry, weeping what?!”

          “The Lonely Assassins. Deadliest creatures in all the universe. One touch and bam!” He clapped his hands together for emphasis. “You’re sent back in time, and they feed off the otherwise wasted energy of all the potential days you would have had. And you live out the rest of your life. In the past.”

 _Assassin? They must have been quite sneaky unless…_ “But it was just statue.”

          “That’s their one weakness, they become quantum locked- stone cold dead- whenever they’re observed.”

          “Lots of rules to these ones.”

          “Nah it all really boils down to one. Don’t blink. Don’t ever blink.” _Have you ever tried not blinking?_ “Although bit late for you now.” _You don’t say._

          “Isn’t there anything you can do? You’re the resident expert, Time Lord.” She really wanted to punch the smug grin off his face. _Lord knows he doesn’t need anyone to stroke that ego, but also maybe flattery will beat the laws of time._

          “Well, paradoxes are toxic to them. Poisons the well of time energy. It’s all very timey-wimey.” _And that’s the scientific term now is it._ “And that’s Mr. Time Lord to you missy.” _Is this regeneration some kind of a mid-life crisis?_

          “Great so paradox, what do I have to do? Kill my great-grandfather or something?”

          “What? No! Were you always this violent?” _Oh, sweet summer child, you know nothing of the depravity of my soul._

          “Hey, I figured it’d have to be something dramatic if a quick TARDIS trip won’t nip the whole thing in the bud.”

          He pondered for a moment, pacing in endless circles because standing still is overrated. _I’m sure this new incarnation would say it wasn’t cool._ “I need more information. If I’m going to be able to help. No promises. Can you direct me to the scene of the crime?”

         “It’s a bit out of the way. Any chance we can do a quick skip in that fancy ship of yours?”

         The horror that warped his face was answer enough, but he verbalized it too. _Because he doesn’t talk enough as it is._ “You can’t step foot in the TARDIS, she’ll try to buck you, and I have no interest of being flung about in time. It’s bad enough having you stand this close to her.” _I’ve never felt more like a stray animal._

         No money and no helpful random strangers passing by, they had to walk. _Kill me know._ On the plus side, it did give them plenty of time to talk and catch up with this strange new version of the Doctor.

         She could see the man she knew underneath the superficial changes. Same bright mind, alien perspective, charming charisma- _if he cares to use it._ Sure, he seemed more distractible and a bit hyperactive- _eleven second attention span, more or less-_ and immature for her taste. But really, he was no more different than seeing someone you know after a long hiatus. _Fundamentally the same, the differences only stick out because I didn’t see them happen in real time._

         When they arrived at her great aunt’s house, it was still visibly empty- _which is weird given that’s it’s clearly been taken care of recently. Maybe the angels like to do yard work._

         The Doctor strut about, waving around what was now clearly an upgraded version of his sonic, “Do you know if anyone lives here?”

         “Let me just use Google, oh wait it hasn’t been invented yet.” She was already missing it, all that random and esoteric knowledge at her fingertips, and she took it all for granted. _I’ll be lucky to live to see the internet invented._

         “Welcome to the life of a time traveler. I mean I’m walking among people who haven’t figured out dimensionally transcendent architecture yet. You’ve barely split the atom, let alone harnessed the energy of collapsing stars.” _Yeah well maybe we’re trying to sort out this whole climate change thing first._ Not that humanity was doing such a stellar job about it. _Yeah we’re doomed._  

         “I’m sorry that you’re clearly just slumming it with us little people.”

         “Don’t be like that.”

         “Like what, an unimportant stupid little human.”

         Staring down the now silent sonic, likely working out the readings, he absent-mindedly replied, “Hey some of my best friends are human.” _He does realize what he sounds like? Right?_

         Sensing he was on thin ice, he changed tack. “Besides we have more important things to work out. Why were you here in the first place?”

        “Great aunt I’ve never heard of or met before emailed me out of the blue, wanted me to visit.” It did feel odd and suspicious in retrospect. _But you know hindsight. 2020 vision. Etc._ She almost wished she hadn’t taken time off and was dying of boredom at work right now. _Oh god, did I really just think that?_

        “You don’t think… would the angels have access to the web?” _Imagine the havoc they could wreck with memes alone._

        He dismissed her out of hand, with a dramatic flick of his wrist. “Oh, don’t be absurd.” _C’mon it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing either of us have encountered._ “But I do think I know who sent that note. You do too.”

        She didn’t follow, but his look left only one person implied. _Me?!_

        “But that’s a…”

        “Yes, a very timey-wimey predestination or bootstrap paradox, take your pick on the name but do keep up.”

        “But I can’t live long enough for that to work, I’d be like a hundred twenty-five plus years old.” _That right there is hella exaggerated biblical style old age._

        “No, you can’t. But you could see the birth of the internet and leave very specific instructions in your will to be carried out when the time is right.” _So my great aunt having an AOL account wouldn’t just be her being old fashioned… it’s what I’ll have available to me when the time comes._

        As she grappled with the implications of the Doctor’s theory, Cat asked the most important question, “And why would I do that?”

        “Maybe you like the life you end up living out here and wanted to ensure the timeline remains in place, ensuring your own existence.” _It’s weird to hear him talking about my future self in the past tense._

        Her retort was swallowed when she spotted something bad. “Doctor, you might want to turn around.”

        He whipped around and leapt backward, holding out his sonic like a weapon. _What good is that against a Weeping Angel._

        She stared it down, hoping that the combination of her and the Doctor would be enough to keep it still, while he worked out a plan. “Any chance we’re incredibly lucky and that’s the only one?” _I just one hundred percent just jinxed us._

        “Likely not. They love this country. Incredibly Catholic so they have a lot of statues to possess.” _God damn it Catholicism._ “And all those myths about the fey. The Irish aren’t mad, they’re just trying to process their experiences.”

         It made a certain sense. All those stories about being stolen to the land of the Faerie and returning at random if at all, unmarked by the passage of time. Certainly, sounds like the angels getting up to some mischief. And in the tellings, maybe the Irish supplied them with a more understandable wit, make them more human.

        “Cat, I’m going to need you to keep this one in place. I’ll look for more.” She would give him a withering stare, but she dare not look away. Not even for a moment. _Don’t blink._

        She was quite good at the whole staring contest thing. _Having an idiot brother will do that._ But even so, she knew she couldn’t keep it up forever. She fudged a bit, trying to trade off the eyes by winking, giving them as much rest as she could.

        It didn’t quite work as well as she would have liked. The angel was getting closer, those clawing arms ready to dig into her. _What happens if I get sent back again? I wonder…_

        “Cat, I would very much suggest not going into the house.” He almost broke her concentration, the angel leapt forward a few more feet, it’s monstrous face bent into a smile.

        “Let me guess it’s some kind of nest or colony or a gang or whatever the hell you call a group of Weeping Angels. So much for being the lonely assassins.”

        Sounding far too chipper given the gravity of their situation, he corrected, “I believe the agreed scientific term is a murder.” _Of course, it is._ “Oh you were being sarcastic.” _Einstein for the win._

        “What would happen if I let this one send me back? Then I can’t email myself to go to Ireland. Boom paradox, situation solved. Then you can pick me up and send me home.”

        It was an idea. A desperate one. And she didn’t relish a repeat of her experience and landing who knows when. _Might land in the middle of the potato famine and just starve to death. Damn English bastards._  

        “Doctor, would it work?”

        “It’s completely mad, almost impossible.” _Like your entire existence. I’m very much loving that almost._

        “But it’s my best hope. To get back to my own time. Right?” _Answer the damn question or my inability to keep this winking game will decide the matter for us._

         “Well there’s a not insignificant chance that it will just break your neck.”

         “They can do that!?” _Seems off brand. And also breaks the rules. What’s the point of having rules, if they can mess with them all willy-nilly? Monsters really have all the fun._

         “And even if it doesn’t, the mass of timeline confusion might make a TARDIS rescue impossible.” _Okay very much not liking the sound of this._

         “Have any better ideas?” Desperation started creeping into her voice, she was sure any moment that the other angels would leave the house and get her from behind. But if she checked on them, the one to her front would get her in mere moments. _It all depends on the Doctor now._

         “It’s your best shot. Go for it.” She was surprised he conceded so readily to her scheme after his protests. _Not sure if that’s a good or bad sign._

         Before she could ask how he’d manage to escape, he continued. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll remote summon the TARDIS and get out of here. You’ll know within eleven minutes if a TARDIS rescue is possible, I’ll try my best to get a lock on your time zone location but it’s all fiddly and…”

         “Let me guess timey-wimey.” _Is that his new catchphrase or something? I feel like he should be able to come up with something a bit more sci-fi technobabble so he doesn’t sound like a child._

         Although every instinct in her body screamed against it, she turned her back on the angel in front of her, looking toward the Doctor, one last time. _Well hopefully not the last._

         “Wish me luck, Doctor.”

         His response was drowned out by the phase shift. _Welp I’m not dead… yet._ This time there was a roar in her ears, like a storm winds battering away. It was a lot more violent, her body convulsed uncontrollably much to her terror. _Why is this taking so long, the last time was instantaneous._

         Her body landed for a moment, but before she could get her bearings, she was off again back in whatever limbo existed in the area between and beyond spaces and times. In an eternity or merely the space between heartbeats, she landed again. This time seemingly permanently.

         She glanced around to see herself back in Galway, right outside The King’s Head pub. _Why here?_ She ran a mental diagnostic, double checking all her limbs and such were all in order. _Oh thank god, nothing’s missing._ She checked her cell phone, and saw she had service again. _Brilliant._

         Even though she was home safe and sound, Cat still waited for the Doctor to arrive. To thank him for his help. And just get confirmation that it was indeed over, that she cheated the system and won. She sat on a bench near a statue of Oscar Wilde, Ireland’s wittiest native son. _A flamboyant rake after my own heart._

         Eleven minutes went and passed, but Cat was in no rush. She had nowhere to be, only a long block of time to fill before her flight home. She supposed she should be trying to figure out where to stay the night. But that could wait. _At least a little longer._

         Right as she was about to get up and sort out her life, she heard a familiar wheezing, groaning sound. _About time, how can a time traveler be late._

         He stepped outside after the TARDIS landed. “Before you say anything, you ripped a hole in the fabric of the universe about the size of Belgium with that little stunt of yours. I had to run some repairs before I could find you.”

         “Good to see you too, Doctor.”

         “Yes, well. Good to see you’re still all together in one piece.”

         He closed the distance between them as quick as a Weeping Angel, going in for the bear hug. _He might finish the job the angels started at this rate._

         “Open invitation if you want to see what real time travel is like.”

         “I think I’ve had enough time travel shenanigans, at least for now.” _I just want to find a bed and sleep for like seventy-two hours._

         “I’ll have my eye on you Cat Donoghue. I don’t think I’ll be forgetting you anytime soon.” _I would hope not, frankly the first time was a bit offensive._

         He shut the TARDIS door behind him, and soon enough the ship dematerialized away to who knows where. She watched it go, and stayed glued to that bench for a little longer. Just thinking. About nothing in particular. Certainly not about turning down an opportunity to see some real history and not just read about it.

_I need a drink._


End file.
